


A Story in Blue

by SanSese



Category: Football RPF
Genre: 15th Century, AU, Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm no historian please forgive me, M/M, Rating May Change, Spain, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-05 05:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11570892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanSese/pseuds/SanSese
Summary: "The only thing I remember distinctly from that day was the silken bright blue handkerchief one of the raiders had around his neck. The very same tissue I saw again this morning."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haxxaholic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haxxaholic/gifts).



> A little something I started to write for Aurore :3 I asked some words and tried to make a story out of it.

Villa was finishing his apple when he heard the front door slam shut. Only Silva dared to test the limits of the fragile door hinges, as the old piece of ragged wood they called a door slightly creaked in protest. Or maybe he just forgot about it. Anyway, Villa was tired of telling Silva to go easy on the door, only getting exasperated eye rolls from the younger man. If they had to live without a door for the next months, Villa would take all the blankets he could find and share them if, and only if, Silva admitted he was right. 

Villa spitted out a seed through the window. It was still early in the morning, the streets only beginning to come alive by the sounds of the local merchants ready to start their day. Villa popped the apple core in his mouth, turning his head towards Silva as he munched rather loudly. 

"Already here?" Technically, it sounded more like 'realy ere?', but Silva didn't even hear the question. He stood still before the door, brow furrowed and fists tight. Villa swallowed. 

"Silva?" The younger man startled, his gaze finally settling on his friend. 

"He's here. He's in Madrid." His words were merely whispers, so Villa approached Silva, concerned.

"What?" Silva shuddered. "He's here! He's come to torment me, again!" He was trembling all over now, sweat forming on his fore head. Villa frowned, trying to make sense of Silva's rambling. He put his hands on Silva's shoulders, deciding to calm his friend first. 

"Silva, why don't you sit, okay?" He pushed his still panicked friend towards a chair. Villa kneeled in front of him. 

"Silva, who is here? And why would he be after you?" In the few years they had shared the house, Silva had never spoken about his past. Villa knew little to nothing about Silva's family, a part from the memories Silva had told him through clenched teeth and with a raspy voice. Sensing he wouldn't get a response, Villa went for another tactic. 

"David, tell me what you did this morning?" At that Silva's eyes focused again on his friend. 

"I went to the market, at dawn. I know a merchant who sells his best rabbits to his first customer of the day at a lower price. I got two of them, and continued my way. I thought I could buy some fruit to go with it when I saw..when I saw a ghost." Silva closed his eyes. 

"A ghost?" Villa was perplexed. 

"Someone I thought was dead. Someone who had made the life of my family miserable. He was supposed to be dead! But I guess he escaped the reaper somehow..." Silva had a strange glint in his eye, his upper lip slightly curled up in a snarl so uncharacteristically of him. Villa began to wonder if his friend was actually awake and not sleep walking. But Silva seemed to have regained his mind completely, and pushed Villa away to stand up. Villa stumbled and fell on his buttocks, surprised.

"Hey! Silva what are you doing?" He looked around the room. "And where are the rabbits you bought?" Silva toyed with a silver dagger they kept in a little chest along with other priced belongings. 

"I'm telling you a criminal who has made my family's life hell is back in town, and you only care about your stomach?!" He secured the dagger along his belt and pushed his hat further down on his ears. Only his piercing brown eyes could betray him, but Silva doubted the ghost would remember him anyway. Villa was standing by the door now, his arms crossed on his chest. 

"Listen, Silva. I still don't understand who this man, ghost, whatever, is and what he did to you and your family, but I'm not letting you go after him! Not until you tell me exactly what happened." And even then, Villa had no intention to let Silva leave their house to go kill a madman. Silva sighed. 

"You know I'm not from here. I was born on the islands, south from here. One day, a group of bandits raided our village, and set fire to the houses. My mother ran away with me towards the forest, but my father stayed, persuaded he could at least hinder them long enough to give us a chance to hide. When we came back to the village, there was no village anymore. The fire was devouring everything, including the bodies of fallen villagers, my father among them." Silva kept his voice steady, but his clenched hands told otherwise. 

"Only a handful of us was left. We had to leave, find a better place. And so we came to the mainland. My mother had nightmares every night, and even when she told me it was nothing, I knew then that her life was cursed forever. The only thing I remember distinctly from that day was the silken bright blue handkerchief one of the raiders had around his neck. The very same tissue I saw again this morning." It was a lot to consider, but Villa listened attentively. 

"Wait. Why did you say he was supposed to be dead?" Silva blinked, a challenging twinkle in his eyes. 

"Because I killed him myself."


	2. Chapter 2

It was when Silva reached the market place that he realized he had no idea where the ghost went. The sun high in the sky was already unforgiving, making the small streets burning hot under its rays. The merchants were packing up. Silva decided to ask one of them about the man with the blue handkerchief, but to no avail. The merchant shrugged, and told Silva it was impossible for him to remember everyone of his customers. On second thought, the merchant added that a bright blue scarf was not something he saw every day, but he didn't recall seeing it. Silva thanked the man before finding a little alcove in the street walls. Could it be just an illusion? Had he just imagined the man to be there, a trick of the warmth? Silva shook his head. No, he knew what he saw! He would find him, and make him pay. Again. 

Waiting in the shadow, he began to fidget with the brim of his hat he had taken off due to the sweat forming under it. He squinted his eyes as he looked for the man in the narrow street, almost deserted but for a sleeping cat. Silva sighed. Maybe Villa was right, after all. He always was the voice of reason, but this time, Silva had not listened.

"You killed him? You, David Silva, killed a man?" Villa almost burst out in laughter, but something in Silva's voice told him the younger man had spoken the truth. His face grew even more serious. Silva was staring at the wall. 

"Obviously I failed. We had to take a ship to the mainland, the day after we had fled our village. We were waiting on the docks when I recognized the man, already boarding the ship. I didn't want to scare my mother, so I said nothing. It seemed he was alone, and I wondered where his friends had gone. 

After some time we boarded too. The man was on the deck, looking at the water. I told my mother I wanted to do a quick tour of the ship. She was reluctant at first, but let me go for a few minutes. I was twelve at the time, small for my age, so I could move between the crowd without being seen. I saw something glistening on my right, a silver dagger tucked in a man's belt. The man was busy talking to someone else, and before my brain had registered what I had done, I was examining the dagger I had stolen. An emotion I had never felt this heavily roared in my chest, echoing in my ears. I saw red, really. I was almost on the other side of the ship, and my target had his head turned away from me. I wasn't thinking anymore. This man had killed y father, my friends, I had to do something. I waited for the guy to lean over the railing, maybe he had spotted a fish, I don't know, and I leapt. I sliced his lower back with the dagger, and with a strength I had never suspected I pushed him overboard. His surprised scream was quickly muffled by the splash he made when touching the water. When the people looked overboard at the red color mixing with the seawater, I was already back next to my mother, the bloody dagger hidden in my clothes." Silva smiled at the memory, before shaking his head. 

"He survived, after all." He looked up at Villa, waiting for his friend's reaction and judgment. Villa was not the most honest and righteous man, but housing an almost murder was maybe too much. 

The older man was silent for a moment, his mind racing. He tried to picture a miniature Silva killing an adult man, a sight so absurd he couldn't believe it. Or maybe he did, and that startled him. He didn't really knew Silva before that. But now, as he glanced at the younger man, eyes determined and muscles taut, he was almost afraid. 

"So, what you are saying is that this guy you thought was dead, is here, somewhere in Madrid. " He eyed the dagger back in Silva's hands. "And your plan is to kill him? When you don't even know where he is hiding? If he's alone? Are you sure you didn't mistake him for someone else?" Silva shook his head. 

"I know it's him, and I don't care if he's not alone. I can defend myself. I will not stand here knowing he could destroy other lives." Silva made way for the door, but Villa intercepted him. 

"You're going nowhere. Not without me." He stared at the younger man. He was ready to help him, even if hadn't any reason to. Silva pushed past him. 

"No. It's something I have to do on my own." He left the house, the door wide open.

Silva was dozing off when he heard footsteps scraping the rough ground. His eyes shot open. He crouched, still in the shadow of the wall. The stranger had his back to him, and walking the opposite way. Silva didn't know if he was the man he was looking for, until the man stopped next to the sleeping cat. The stranger kicked the poor beast, laughing as the animal ran away. His head was slightly tilted, and Silva caught a glimpse of blue fabric. He had found him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please tell me what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

Maybe he should have listened to Villa. He had been following the man for hours now, down narrow streets and filthy alleys Silva didn't even recognize. There were times the man stopped to look around, giving little to no time for Silva to hide. Luckily, he had not been discovered. Yet.

The man came to an halt once again. Silva placated himself to the wall, his breathing shallow. He waited several seconds, but he discerned no footsteps. Was he still there? Silva gulped. He couldn't stay here forever, his muscles were already straining because of the tension. Why wait, after all. Silva balled his fists, his mind set. He would just confront the man right here, right now. But when he jumped out of his hiding place, the man was gone. How? The alley had no turns as far as Silva could see. His shoulders slumped. The man couldn't have vanished. 

Silva walked towards the spot he had last seen the man. On his left, the wall, and on his right, a house. The door stood two steps from Silva, almost taunting him. The man was surely inside. In a fight one against one, Silva knew he would have the upper hand. But against two or more, he doubted his chances. He would only know how many bandits were in the house after stepping inside, and then, it would be too late to retreat. But Silva had known this, even before chasing the man. 

He twirled the dagger in his hand, and pushed the door.

But the door didn't budge. Silva tried again, pressing all his body against it. The door refused to give in. Damn! Silva bit back a curse, glaring at the door. It seemed it was blocked from the other side. Looking up, Silva noticed two openings, serving as windows. He had no other choice apparently. Luckily, the windows were only two meters from the ground. Silva took a few steps back and began to run. He jumped towards the ledge, and lifted himself through the opening. He tumbled down in a clumsy roll on the wooden floor, right hand brandishing the dagger. He looked around the attic in a fighting stance, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Cobwebs coated the empty shelves on his left, clothes and other fabrics were covered in dust. Everything was silent. Silva could hear his own heart beating erratically, and mice scratching in the dark corners of the room. He stepped forward, a careful foot grazing the wooden planks. The creaking of the wood resounded like thunder in the obscurity. Silva held his breath, listening. He heard no additional sounds, but that didn't mean anything. He was sure the man was downstairs, accompanied or not. 

He finally saw the end of the room, and grew desperate. The hatch leading down was there too, meaning Silva had to get there by crossing the entire attic. The man would surely hear him reach the hatch. Silva pondered his other choices. He could go back. Jump out of the window and disappear, as if he had never been there. Or he could make the run for it, open the hatch and attack. Silva tossed his hat, his shaggy hair falling over his eyes. There was no hiding his identity now. If today was his last day, he would not die a stranger. 

Silva closed his eyes, thinking about his life in Madrid, the places he had discovered, the people he had met, Villa...He opened them again, determined. Villa would understand. He won't have a problem finding another roommate. One who didn't leave the front door almost in shambles every time he slammed it shut. A brief smile appeared on his face, just to fade as quickly. It was time to go.

He sprinted towards the hatch, opened it with one hand and let himself down, his feet landing in a soft thud. Silva looked up, ready to face the man he hated the most in the world. But there was no one in sight. Empty chairs and bottles greeted him. Silva frowned. Was this an abandoned house? It couldn't be! He inspected the table, and saw a glass half filled. Somebody had been here. Recently. 

"Looking for me?" Silva turned, surprised. He had never heard this voice before, but he knew it belonged to the man in front of him. The bright blue scarf was still tied around his neck, a horrible smile disfiguring his face. He didn't get the time to reply, for someone came up from behind and twisted his arms behind his back. The dagger fell to the ground in a clatter, as Silva tried to struggle. The other bandit held good, his scent invading Silva's personal space. Silva was hit by nausea, the smell of alcohol so powerful it almost burned his eyes.

"Get away from me!" The man snorted. "Don't waste your words, little man." He approached Silva, head tilting. "Tell me, did you really think I hadn't noticed you hounding me all the way from the marketplace?" He burst out in laughter as he saw Silva's widening eyes. "I'm not an idiot. Although, I don't know who you are, and why you're following me. Do please enlighten me." The man sat down in a chair, two other men joining him from what seemed to be an adjacent room. Silva bit his lip. Four men! At least! He spat on the ground. 

"My name is David Silva, and I come to avenge my father's death, the destruction of my village, and the misery my mother's been living since you destroyed our home." Silva glared at the man, his arm muscles beginning to protest. 

"Oh, really? Did I do that?" The man looked at his men, apparently confused. "Guys, would I do something like that?" The one holding Silva chuckled. 

"Well, I guess you might be right. But you will have to specify, I'm afraid." The man grinned. Silva wanted to strangle him. 

"I was the one who killed you, you disgusting rat! I sliced you and threw you overboard, but I know now that the devil himself didn't want you by his side, so he sent you back to earth." The reaction of the man and his fellow bandits was priceless. The silence was heavy, glances were shared. One of the man broke the silence. 

"Pedro, give me the honor of silencing that littl" 

"Shut up!" Pedro stood up, fuming. He pointed an accusatory finger at Silva."So it's you...You must have been a kid back then!" His face was twitching from anger. He shook his head. "A fucking kid almost killed me..." Pedro bared his teeth in a snarl. "Next time, be sure to check for a pulse before tossing someone overboard, kid!" Spit rained on Silva's face. Pedro picked up the silver dagger and pressed it to Silva's throat. "Or slit his throat, a method proved rather successful." Silva screwed his eyes shut, feeling the blade digging in his skin. 

A knock on the door startled everyone. "Ignore it!" Pedro shouted to his men, his attention once again on Silva. But the knocking persisted. And then a well-known voice boomed through the door.

"Open up Pedro! It's Villa."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pedro here is not the football player, just a random name :) (or is it, Aurore?)  
> And I know, I'm evil, hehe


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry?

Silva couldn't believe his ears. Villa was here? And he knew this man, this Pedro? What did that even mean? He couldn't, he wasn't...The fear that had clutched his heart was now replaced by dread and disappointment. Villa was a friend, his roommate. They had shared jokes and late evenings talking about anything. Silva thought he had found a brother he had never had, a confident, someone to ask for advice. Had he been duped all this time? His eyes began to water. But through his blurred vision, he still saw the anxious looks on Pedro and his men's faces. One of them was already at the door, ready to open it. He looked at Pedro for confirmation. Pedro hid the dagger in his sleeves and ordered the one holding Silva to let him go. Silva fell to the floor when the man freed him, his knees taking the blow. Pedro looked down at Silva, his face a mixture of apprehension and disdain. 

"Listen up little rat. You tell one word of this at him, and we'll find your mom. I have men everywhere in this city, one mistake and you can say goodbye to her, understood?" He tried to be menacing, but the nervous glances he shot at the door weren't in line with his threat. Silva just nodded. His mother had joined his father years ago. They would do nothing to her. But that of course, he didn't say. 

Pedro made a sign at the man by the door. He pushed the chair that was sitting under the lock and opened the door with the key. Silva couldn't bear to see Villa, so he avoided his gaze. Pedro was immediately by Villa's side, smiling like he was an old friend. And maybe he was. At that thought, Silva's heart plummeted. 

"Ah, Captain Villa! What a pleasure to see you. I was just talking to a long lost friend you see." Pedro had put on a friendly face that seemed so unnatural Silva wondered if this man had ever truly smiled in his life. Villa was having none of it. He dodged the hand that wanted to grip his shoulder and wandered further in the room. He noticed the chair just next to the door.

"Are you afraid that someone would barge into your home that you barricaded the entrance?" Villa's voice was a couple of tones lower than what Silva was used to, a voice that commanded respect. His clothes were different too. Clearly more expensive than what he wore at their house. There was an insigna that Silva couldn't read on his chest, and a sword was hanging from his belt. Wait. How did Pedro call him? Captain Villa?

"Oh, that! Well, you know how the streets aren't safe Captain. Just a precaution. You never know when a thief will strike." Pedro was fidgeting now, his feet following Villa in a clumsy manner. 

"Yes, you can never know. But I wonder what that thief would steal in here. I only see broken glasses and a questionable habit of cleaning." Villa smirked, as Pedro lowered his head. 

"Can't say I'm the most proper man, since my sister left I..uh.." 

"Do you know what a broom is?" 

"A broom? Of course!" 

"Then I don't see why you can't use it. They don't bite." Villa returned to the entrance door. 

"May I ask why your guest is on his knees? Cleaning the dust with his clothes perhaps?" Silva looked up when Villa mentioned him. His eyes locked whit Villa's, and the Captain's widened for a fraction of seconds. He then winked at Silva before returning his attention Pedro. Silva remained silent.

"Pedro, your guest is bleeding!" Silva only just realized he was indeed bleeding, his throat wet with blood from the small cut of the dagger. Pedro was looking at his men for an answer, but they all gazed at their feet, not wanting to get more involved in this masquerade.

"He..he fell, yes, he fell and I was just picking him up when you entered and what are you doing?!" Villa had taken his sword out of its sheath, and shoved it under Pedro's chin, the point grazing the bearded skin. 

"I don't like when people lie to me." He lifted Pedro's right arm and shook it. The silver dagger clattered again on the floor, its blade still dripping from Silva's blood. "I really don't."

Pedro's men finally moved, but they hadn't set one step that Villa turned to them. "My men are outside. There are no other issues. Surrender, and I will not harm you."

They looked at each other, then at Pedro, who was squinting at the blade. The men lowered their heads in surrender. 

"Good." Villa shouted an order and the door opened, letting several men through dressed almost exactly as Villa. They took Pedro's men outside, as well as Pedro, who glared at Silva as he was carried away.

Villa picked up the dagger and joined Silva, helping him up. "I think this belongs to you." His voice was much softer now. "Are you okay?" Silva nodded, taking the dagger back. He didn't know what to say to Villa. The man he thought he knew was a member of some kind of secret forces he had never heard about. He did save him, so maybe a simple thank you would be enough. 

"I have some explaining to do, and a few apologies. When you mentioned the blue scarf, I thought of Pedro. He had been on our radar for some time, but we didn't had any proof of the crimes he committed. I followed you with my men and waited for the right moment." Silva frowned. 

"You used me as bait?" He distanced himself from Villa. "The right moment? He could have killed me!" Villa followed Silva, visibly confused. 

"Yes, that's why I followed you! If Pedro was indeed as monstrous as you told me, then of course I wouldn't let you go on your own. Listen Silva, I saw an opportunity and I took it, for the best of this city and all his previous victims." Silva turned his head away, mumbling. 

"Then why wait? Why not arresting him the minute you entered the house?" He had been devastated, thinking of Villa as a criminal. "I thought you were one of them!" The older man blinked, hurt by Silva's statement. 

"I needed to play along. When I saw your bleeding, I knew I had him. I couldn't arrest him, with everything against him based on your words. He would have found another lie, another cover-up. You understand that, do you?" Villa's explanation was logical, and yet. Silva's voice was trembling. 

"Why didn't you tell me who you were?" He didn't want to hear the reason, but he had to. Villa sighed.

"My job is supposed to be secret. Pedro knew me because he had been involved in another crime, for which he accused someone else of the blame. He walked out free as a bird, but I knew he had done some bad stuff before. No one knows who we are, that's our strength. We never know when someone will divulge our identity, so we keep it to ourselves." 

"And what about trust?" 

"I.." 

"You didn't trust me?" Silva looked at Villa, his face so open and vulnerable. "You still don't trust me." Villa opened his mouth to reply, but Silva shook his head. "No. I understand, it's part of the job." He crossed the room and reached the open door. His back facing Villa, he murmured. 

"Thank you for saving me." He left.

Silva did not return to their house that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will write an epilogue, don't worry hehe


	5. Epilogue

The day after

Villa was looking at the plate full of apples, debating if he should eat one now or after dinner when he heard the front door slam shut. But the noise didn't stop there. The metal of the door hinges cried in agony as it detached itself from the frame, the wooden panel crashing on the ground with a loud thud. A moment of silence. Then, "Shit".  
Villa picked up an apple and took a bite. 

Silva was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short, but sweet I think :3 Thanks a lot to all of you, dear readers :)  
> I'll certainly continue in this verse, so stay tuned for more complications between these two idiots hehe


End file.
